


A Beautiful, Ugly Mess

by TobiasOfArkham



Series: Invasion AU [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe, Angst, Arkham Asylum, Batjokes, Biting, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Edge Play, Emotional Manipulation, Enemy Lovers, Face-Fucking, Fighting, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Moral Ambiguity, Oral Sex, S&M, Shameless Smut, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobiasOfArkham/pseuds/TobiasOfArkham
Summary: “Face it, Bats, you’re crazy about me. Crazy enough to walk yourself right into the looney bin to be locked up in a cell with me"There is a tomorrow. A dirty one...





	A Beautiful, Ugly Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is - the sequel to my previous story No Tomorrow. Four months have passed since the end of the invasion and everything is a mess. Batman isn't doing too well. He has suffered losses and is confused about his feelings regarding what happened with Joker and what he learned about him. Arkham is still standing and run on a skeleton staff of questionable individuals, so we get to have more prison cell action. Woo. And these cells don't have no plexiglass. Sue me.
> 
> This one is a short smutfic that isn't even trying to be much more than that.

 

Walking through these gates always gives him chills. Every time. Even today. There used to be a time when he didn’t believe in demons. Today, he knows better, of course, after everything he’s seen. But this place? He still desperately wants to believe that it doesn’t apply here. That the things that happened here were merely a human tragedy. That the terrible things that keep happening are mundane coincidence. That the people who reside here are not possessed but sad, ill people who need help - his help...

It's no use. He can never quite shake the guilty feeling that putting them here is only feeding the darkness within them. That maybe something evil here does snare them into its cold clutches, leech onto their souls and suck out what is good or sane, replacing it with more of this evil that seems to seep into them each time, and -

“The director is ready to receive you.”

The nervous-looking young doctor is clearly a new arrival. He brushes away a lock of curly ginger hair that the cool autumn wind has blown across his face, and adjusts his glasses. The armed guards at the asylum gate keep their eyes facing forward, used to the dark knight’s visits. Batman regards the doctor without a word. He barely registered the hand he was offered to be shaken earlier, then awkwardly withdrawn when not taken; he heard the words said but didn’t really catch the meaning behind them. Now, he is snapped back into reality by the previous words. He nods, anxious to get this over with.

”I’m honoured to meet you, truly” the doctor converses as they enter Arkham Asylum. “My sister, she-”  
“Just take me to her.” His tone is hard, dangerous. The doctor remains silent until they reach the director’s office.

Director Tesfaye motions Batman to sit down. From the looks of her, the woman is probably in her late fifties. Her short, tight, wiry black curls are gaining a steely gray colour and her dark eyes are fixed on him in a shrewd, piercing look that instantly makes him uneasy. Her high cheekbones and gaunt face, together with her skin, the colour of black coffee, make her a formidable sight. People who meet Batman for the first time, especially in the mood he is currently in, rarely have such confident air about them.

“I prefer to stand” Batman says.

“As you wish. You know we don’t usually allow visitors for this particular inmate, let alone private meetings. From what I heard from my predecessor before the… unfortunate incident, that never ends well.”

Batman frowns slightly.

“We all know I am intimately familiar with what he’s capable of.”

“Indeed. If you were anyone else I wouldn’t have agreed to this. But what I want to know before you go in, is... What do you really want with him?”

What does he want? He isn’t sure himself. All he knows is that something needs to be said or done to put an end to the torture that the past months have been. Life has been hectic enough just picking up the pieces, even without...

_Visit me soon, darling!_

He has a plan that he wants to follow, but he has to admit he isn’t sure what will happen. Fitting, for a meeting with an agent of chaos.

“Like I told you before, he may have invaluable information that he will not reveal to me if we’re being watched. I know this.” he lies smoothly.

“Do you think the behaviour I described could be related to this case?”

This question makes him nervous, but he manages to hide it as he evades:

“Possibly. It's complicated. It wouldn't be expedient to discuss details. I trust you understand?”

“Certainly” says the Director, obviously disappointed. “Do you plan to beat it out of him?” she immediately proceeds to inquire, with a look in her eyes that Batman doesn't like.

“I plan for things not to get to that point...” - he hesitates - “but they could.”

Director Tesfaye smiles. It’s a cruel smile that disappears almost as soon as it has appeared. “Do your worst.” she says coldly and stands up. She walks past him and to the door.

“Excuse me?”

“It should be easy to cover for you if he never walks again. Or breathes, for that matter. Nobody cares. Follow me.”

Batman does his best to ignore the stab in his heart, the anger that these words ignite in him. He isn't successful. Fortunately, her back is now turned to him and she doesn't get to see him clenching his jaw - and his fists.

He follows her out of her office and through the all too familiar halls of the asylum, disturbingly quiet except for the buzz of a dying fluorescent light they pass, or the occasional sob or incomprehensible speech coming from one of the cells. Finally, they stop at a barred metal gate leading to Ward 9 - home to the most deadly of the most dangerous.

“This is as far as I will take you. The guards will escort you to the inmate. They have been ordered not to interfere nor speak of this no matter what... - what they may hear.” She gives both of the guards a hard, warning look. “You have an hour.”

Batman nods, not meeting the Director’s eyes. It's draining enough to keep his usually effortless poker face at this time without looking at her. The gate opens and he begins the walk alongside two guards, along the long corridor with cells on each side. It feels ridiculously like the green mile. He tries to shake this feeling, to rationalise what he is here to do - he will say his piece, make it clear beyond a shadow of a doubt where he stands. This doesn't mean Joker has won.

It has been four months since the end of the invasion. The Director tells him Joker has become increasingly hard for the staff to handle during this time - even by his standards. He has been not only disruptive but self-destructive. He has been refusing food, making bath time difficult and has been cutting. Apparently this behaviour didn’t start right away, but about a month into his latest incarceration. And Batman knows exactly why. He can’t deny this to himself anymore, not after what happened in orbit. He has not been able to do anything about it except, to his shame, wish that Joker would break out. And this is exactly what Joker wants him to feel. He wants him to want him out there on the streets of Gotham, fighting him... But, as Batman feared, he has stayed put, waiting for his Batman to visit... And his Batman has never felt weaker and more lost in his life, not since -

Batman or not, with each step he feels more like just a man - just Bruce.

 

***

 

The thick metal door closes behind him. He hears the clanking of the heavy lock. He is now shut in. Joker lies on his back in his small bed in the opposite corner of the cell. His legs are crossed and his hand is resting on his hollow belly, under his protruding ribs. He is worryingly skinny and looks sickly and pale even for him. There are deep, dark circles around his eyes and his green hair is greasy and unkempt. He is humming a tune Batman can’t quite make out, if it even is more than random notes he is making up as he goes. There is dried blood on the walls of the cell and stains on Joker’s orange Arkham uniform. The soles of his bare feet are dark with dirt. He looks both terrifying and pathetic all at once with his mouth stretched into a tight grin while he hums and stares up into the ceiling, still as a statue. For the longest time neither of them say anything. It troubles Batman that the silence doesn’t make him more uncomfortable. It should. But then again, they did spend a long time in silence together on the alien ship, huddled together, before drifting into sleep, after... all the things they had done. Things they shouldn’t have.

Joker finally turns to look at him. This movement is almost robotic, creepy, as his grin doesn’t leave his face.

“Look who finally showed up” he says, moving his lips only by the bare minimum, the rest of his face still fixed in that same creepy expression. “I’m touched.”

Batman’s attention is now drawn to the wounds in his arms. Some of them are almost healed while others look only a couple of days old. There are also bruises on his arms, legs and throat. Could he have done all this to himself?

“Did you do all that?” he asks.

“Do what?” says Joker, still grinning.”You mean the _artwork_? Aren’t you adorable!” he giggles, and doesn’t answer.

“This isn’t funny. Why are you doing this?”

”Why do I do anything at all?” - Joker’s voice is strangely hoarse as he speaks- “Because I feel like it. It’s not like there’s a lot to _do_ in here, is it? I get bored... It’s really... stimulating to let your own blood... Mmm, and to taste it... You should try it some time!” he licks his lips.

“You can’t keep behaving this way. You have to stop.”

“Yes, daddy” Joker says mockingly, with a dry cackle.

“I mean it.”

“Ooooh.... Hehe.” Joker sits up at the edge of his bed, hunched, the corner of his eye twitching, as well as his fingers. What was a grin twisting his lips is now more like a grimace. He stares intensely at his visitor, like a predator ready to pounce. This feels at odds with his spindly, bruised frame in his filthy prison uniform. “I take it you've met the Director?” he converses, “Charming lady, isn't she? Makes one miss old Jeremiah, I tell ya...”

Batman chooses not to comment on that. The vibes he got from that woman told him enough. He'll have to look into the new management of this facility...

“So, how’s the family doing?” Joker inquires, with a bitter edge to his voice. “Still alive? I hope Jeeves is. He’s so much fun to torment.”

A rush of adrenaline hits Batman at these words. The faces of Jason and Barbara, dead on the slab, flash in front of his eyes and his heart aches.

“They’re none of your concern” he growls, “I’m only here to talk about you -”

“Ah! You and me - _us_... You know, this is no way to treat your boyfriend. I’m not seeing any flowers.”

Annoyed, Batman scowls at him. “You are not my boyfriend.”

“Ah, right, I forget - you have commitment issues! Haha! How many pretty girls have you left bawling their eyes out, thinking you had something special, hm? They weren’t special though, were they... Nooo... nothing like what we have...”

“We have nothing” Batman says, knowing full well it’s a lie.

“Is that so?” Joker asks with a smirk, then scowls right back at Batman. “Then what the hell are you doing here? Why would you ask for an hour with me?”

Batman blinks. He has no idea how Joker can know this but he can’t let this surprise show on his face. He has to make this go as planned, somehow... He has to work hard to push the thoughts of there being something supernatural about this place from his mind...

Joker smirks. “Yes... the walls have ears in here... Nothing goes unnoticed by me. But, do carry on.”

“I’m here because I think that even you deserve that much - for me to tell it to your face.”  
More lies - he is here because he wants things to go back to normal. He is here because he wants him out there on the streets, to break out if that’s what it takes to make him stop hurting himself and to stop driving him crazy. He is here because... he misses him. Terribly.

“Hm. And what have you got to tell me, darling? “Joker asks, his voice rough and his smile crooked, yet still somehow seductive. He stands up and takes a graceful step away from his bed and towards Batman. The latter feels his throat go dry and his hands sweat under his gauntlets. The cowl feels suddenly tight on his temples. He's starting to feel that coming here was a bad idea. He sticks with his plan nonetheless.

“I can’t stop you hurting yourself” he begins, “and I can’t stop you from making life miserable for everyone else here, either. I can only stop part of your crimes from happening. But I know you're not going to kill yourself, Joker - not without taking me with you one way or another. You’ve always reserved that - honour for me, and you always will. So you can’t threaten me with that. If you died here... it would have no effect on me.”

He pauses. Joker sneers. “You sure about that, honey?” he asks slyly, shifting his weight onto one foot and placing a hand on his hip, “What was that you said again - ‘ _I love it when you call me that_ ’ ...” - he chuckles - “Face it, Bats, you’re _crazy_ about me. Crazy enough to walk yourself right into the looney bin to be locked up in a cell with me - _as you should be, Batty!_ ” He explodes into laughter, then immediately wheezes and coughs like his throat is too raw to laugh so much. It sounds as if he has recently been screaming at the top of his lungs and lost his voice.

“No” Batman insists, as soon as he gets a chance from all the noise Joker is making. He musters all his strength to keep his speech steady and assertive and his eyes firmly on Joker’s.  
“That’s what I’m here to tell you. There may be a... physical attraction there that I wish there wasn’t, but... I _don’t love you_ , Joker. And as far as I’m concerned - it never happened.”

Something dangerous flashes in Joker’s eyes at these words. He is no longer smiling, and says nothing, just stares at him, again looking like he’s observing his prey. The rational side of Batman tells him to call for the guards right now to open the door, but he doesn’t move. He had planned to leave at this point. But then he had also expected Joker to either pretend not to care, or to still be sneering and laughing hysterically. He is doing neither. Instead he takes another silent step towards him.

“If and when you escape again,” Batman continues, “and try to do something terrible, I will fight you. I will stop you like I do any criminal, but that's it. There is _nothing special_ between us.”

Joker keeps slowly advancing on him, not breaking eye contact for a second. As he gets closer and Batman can more clearly see his face, he notices just how cloudy and bloodshot his eyes are. He must be heavily medicated. The strange twitch in his fingers tells him that he has been going through experimental treatments again - he knows this because the twitch only occurs whenever he is in Arkham, and in the weeks directly following his escapes. Batman is told by the staff that these treatments are designed specifically to subdue difficult cases like him, and to hopefully calm them down permanently with enough consecutive treatments. He has never been told what exactly they consist of and has been sceptical of them since day one. He is now starting to feel guilty about never having looked into them...

While he is lost in thought, Joker makes his way to him. His proximity brings Batman back into this moment and he instinctively takes a wider stance and locks his feet to the floor, bracing himself.  
“You’re telling me...” Joker begins, his voice quiet and dangerous, his entire body tense, coiled like spring, his shoulders arched in a way that reminds Batman of a cat, “that you came here... just to tell me that?” He cracks his neck by jerking his head to one side, where it remains as he stares fiercely at Batman, his face now very close to his... He looks almost feral with his wild, messy hair and his yellowing teeth bared, the only thing missing being froth at his mouth. “You... you think...” - his voice is shaky, his anger now tangible - “you can leave me here _rotting_ in this hellhole for _months_... and then waltz in here... only to lie in my face and leave?”

“That’s all you ever do.” says Batman coldly, “Lie and hurt people. But I’m not lying here” Batman lies.

“Yes, you are!” Joker spits at him, now raising his voice. Then he jerkily shakes his head and chuckles, dryly, breathlessly.

It only takes a fraction of a second - Joker’s bony knee sinks into Batman’s groin. Even with the codpiece it hurts quite a bit and, more than that, it takes him by surprise - he’s not sure what sort of attack he was expecting exactly, but not this. He instinctively recoils, and while he leans slightly forward he can feel another stab of pain as Joker’s sharp elbow collides with his cheekbone, splitting the skin. He stumbles backwards against the door and quickly uses its support to his advantage to aim a kick to the side of Joker’s head. The force of the blow sends Joker flying backwards into the opposite wall of his small cell with a thud. He slides down and chuckles all the way to the floor. Once there, he lifts his gaze at Batman to reveal a satisfied, bloody grin, while rubbing the side of his face.

“That’s my baby” he growls, and lunges back at Batman, who can now feel his own blood trickling down his face. He blocks and evades Joker’s blows with ease; he is much slower than usual today and this is no surprise given his current condition. Batman feels ashamed of just how alive it still makes him feel in this moment, how it makes his heart race to be dancing with him again, as Joker would put it. He tries to rationalise it, to put it down to the usual spike of adrenaline that rushes over him during a fight, but... This is different. It’s something else. He knows that this is just playtime to Joker - this is nothing new. But his own feelings about it are what disturb him.

Several moves are blocked both ways, until Batman’s fist lands into Joker’s stomach. He gasps and bends over, then unexpectedly throws himself at his opponent with a shriek and sinks his teeth into his lower lip. His canines pierce the skin before he is forcefully thrust away. He struggles to maintain his balance and is quickly grabbed by his hair and violently smashed into the wall face first.  
“You taste good, my love” he pants, with a lick of his lips.  
“What do you hope to gain from this?” Batman asks him, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.  
“Cut the crap, Batsy!” Joker croaks, “It’s starting to properly piss me off! I’m not stupid, you know? I know you’re having just as much fun as I am.”  
Batman presses him harder against the wall, only to get a pleased moan out of him. He curses internally at the reaction in his lower gut to that sound. It reminds him too much of what he heard in the cell four months ago. This distracts him enough that he doesn't react fast enough to joker’s free hand grabbing hold of his cowl, trying to pull it off. This is a clever move - as this is something he’d avoid at all costs in any other fight, Batman instinctively loosens his grip just enough for Joker to snake his way out of it and turn around. He manages to shove him away and land a hard kick into his diaphragm. Batman is momentarily paralysed by the pain, and that’s all the time Joker needs to jump at him with his entire weight so that they both tumble to the floor. Joker straddles him and closes his fingers around his throat, cackling maniacally, blood dripping from his mouth onto Batman’s face. He doesn’t seem at all concerned that Batman’s hands are free. It’s like he’s expecting - no, looking forward to - the next move.

Without thinking, Batman makes that exact move; he punches Joker squarely in the jaw, immediately followed by a hook to his chest, knocking the air out of him. He then grabs hold of both of Joker’s arms and flips them around, slams Joker’s back against the floor. He straddles him the way Joker just did, and roars at him like an animal, his face an inch from his, pouring all of his anger, his grief, his frustration at him. It feels freeing. Joker gazes up at him with an expression that borders on worship.

“My Bat...” he groans deeply, “my demon...”

“I’m no demon!” Batman growls, sounding ironically like one.

Joker gives him a gentle smile, his eyes glazed over and half-lidded.

“You look like one... ” he whispers fondly, “you are so, _so_ beautiful...” he coos, “my darling... ”

Then his tone instantly shifts, all softness leaving it, making it harsh - “Choke me!” he orders, “Take my breath away.”

Even through his armor, he can feel Joker getting hard against him. He looks down at this battered and bruised man, at his piercing green eyes and at his tongue flicking across his lips, now red from his own blood, gleaming and tempting... and he feels himself getting hard, too. His hands slowly let go of Joker’s arms, as if of their own accord, and move to his throat. Joker’s breath hitches. “Yes... there’s a good Bat...” he whispers.

Batman wonders whether the bruising already there was self-inflicted to simulate what is happening now, or whether there is more to worry about regarding the Arkham staff. This thought doesn’t deter him from closing his hands around the slender, white neck, so familiar he would know by now in his sleep how it feels... and he _has_ dreamed of it - especially since the invasion. He has dreamed of kissing it.

But now, in this moment, he grips it so tightly that Joker can only barely breathe. Joker’s breaths are short and raspy as air struggles to get through - and he loves it. He looks so happy, and so obviously aroused. But he is still breathing, if only barely... He did specifically tell him to take his breath away, didn’t he?

Batman removes one of his gloved hands from his throat and places it over his mouth and nose. Joker’s eyes roll back in his head and he closes them. He is bucking his hips against Batman and grasping at his cape. They both become more aroused with every second that passes. Eventually, inevitably, the panic sets in and Joker thrashes and claws and hits at Batman, who smiles at him - and lets go. Joker loudly and desperately gasps for air, still holding onto Batman’s cape.

“Ahh... oh, yes...” he pants, pulling tightly at the cape, wanting him closer. “YES! Ohhoho, I could easily come just from that, you know...” he says in a gravelly chuckle. “I’d tell you to do it again but... I don’t wanna come just yet.”

A drop of blood falls from Batman’s lip, now bleeding from the bite. Joker catches it in his mouth. He hums in approval, then sticks out his tongue, reaching for him... Batman allows the clown to pull him closer. He is now close enough for Joker to reach his mouth. Their eyes are locked together as he slides the tip of his tongue slowly across his bottom lip... then his upper lip. It shoots sparks right down to his groin, where his hardness now presses against his codpiece, aching to get free...  
“You want this,” Joker whispers against Batman’s lips, then slides his tongue past them, into his mouth. Batman groans in defeat and sucks on it for a moment, then captures the clown’s red mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss. The taste of their saliva laced with the iron of their blood, the salt of their sweat - it’s intoxicating, heady. He moans and grabs hold of the green hair with one hand, while the other pins one of his arms down to the floor again. Joker reaches with his free hand to caress the back of his cowl, then one of his bat ears... The kiss is wet and sweet and drool drips down from the corner of the clown’s bloody mouth as their tongues slide against each other.

A sudden nip at his tongue tells Batman to pull away. Joker smiles up at him...  
“Mmm... fuck my face, won't you darling? Be a dear.”

“... what?”

“You heard me.” joker says, and his lips twist into a mean grin. “Give me a proper skull-fuck. _Now._ ”

Batman raises his eyebrows and takes a moment to consider this.  
“You really think I’m going to trust you with that?” he asks, wincing at the thought.

Joker laughs. “Oh, honey! I’ve had ample opportunity to chew off your tongue if I wanted to - or your ear...” - he caresses his bat ear again, then the side of his face, smearing blood from the wound on his cheek onto his white fingers - “But why would I ruin my favourite thing in the world, hm?” He finishes with a little giggle and another lick of his lips as he looks down expectantly.

Batman remembers the ecstasy it drove Joker into to have it rammed up his backside and concludes that he’s making sense. He seems to be taking his time contemplating this though, because joker is now growling loudly with his teeth bared. There is something strangely attractive about how raw and animalistic this man can be, in contrast to his sophistication.  
“Alright” Batman says and gets up. He offers Joker his hand to pull him up. Once upright, the clown winks at him, then begins to walk at a leisurely pace towards his bed, slapping Batman on the ass on his way. He positions himself on the bed, lying across it on his back with his head hanging over the edge and his legs up the wall.  
“Come here and give it to me” he motions with his hands. Batman doubts he’s ever removed his codpiece as fast as he does now.

As soon as he is free, he grabs hold of Joker’s hair, tightly, as he knows Joker to like it. He also knows to give his face a good, hard slap with his other hand before placing it under his chin. He then shoves his cock into the eagerly awaiting mouth. A moan of pleasure escapes them both. He thrusts hard, as requested, deep into his throat, again and again, making him gag. He pulls out and Joker’s coughs, his eyes watering. Batman gives him a moment to breathe - and to make a sound of delight - then enters his mouth again. Joker grabs his ass with both hands and pulls at him like he can’t get enough. He gags harder this time, and Batman pulls out again. Joker coughs up thick mucus from his throat and spits it onto the throbbing, rock-hard erection.  
“Oh, yummy...” he purrs, tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes while he licks him, spreading his spit all over him and his own lips. He takes the dripping wet cock back into his mouth like it’s the most delicious thing he knows, and digs his nails into the armor. Batman fucks him again, violently, holding the wet, bloody, beautiful face and the messy green curls in his tight grip. He pulls back before he can gag again, and Joker licks and suckles at the head, groaning in delight.

And it's perfect. Batman feels a pang of jealousy when he wonders how many times Joker must have done this to get so good at it; it's easily the best he's ever had. His eyes are now drawn to the erection tenting the Arkham issue pants. He has an urge to touch it but he wonders just how long the clown has gone without a shower...  
  
At that moment the Joker laughs.  
“Suck me!” he hisses, as if he could read his mind. “I made sure I'm nice and dirty just for you, you fucking asshole!” he cackles and his teeth graze the shaft. “you deserve it.” he says affectionately and places a kiss on the wet tip.

Batman still isn't entirely convinced that the Joker wouldn't bite him if angered. And whatever he is doing with his tongue at this moment feels so wonderful that he doesn't want to make him stop... So, he bends down over Joker and pulls the waistband of his pants over his hardness.

Joker wasn't lying. The prospect is both disgusting and oddly arousing at the same time and he can't help but feel like he's being conditioned.  
“What are you waiting for, cupcake?” Joker sneers, with another slap on Batman’s ass. “Suck it!” he repeats, and nips lightly at his ballsack in warning before voraciously gobbling it up and sucking on it.

Batman does as he's told and grabs him at the base, then takes him into his mouth. He has never done this before, let alone to anyone this dirty - both literally and figuratively. He reflexively gags at the taste and smell but begins to suck on it anyway. Joker releases the balls and moves back to kissing and licking the shaft.  
“Yeah...” he sighs, “that's my good boy...” He slurps up a drop of precum from the tip. “Mmm, my delicious Bat Boy. Now, get back to fucking my face and make sure to suck me clean. Got it?”  
“Mm-hm...” is all Batman can respond to that, with his mouth full of cock. He proceeds to fuck the grinning red mouth and to suck him, which is becoming less unpleasant as is he is licking it cleaner. He places a hand behind the clown’s leg to caress his thigh, then slides it down to grab his ass. The other hand moves along the white cock while he sucks on it.

“Such a good boy....” Joker mutters and spits on him again while Batman is out of his mouth again - prompted to do so by another graze of his teeth.  
“I’m gonna come soon and you’re gonna swallow all of it, you hear me?” - he circles the head of Batman’s cock with his tongue, causing him to grunt. He grins. “Unless of course you want to leave here with my cum all over your fancy batsuit... Tell me you’ll take it all.”

“I’ll... take it all.” Batman mutters and licks him.

“Good. Now come back here...” Joker kneads one of his buttocks with one hand and moves the other to rest on the Dark Knight’s back. Batman enters his mouth again and sucks on the cock that was white but is now more of a pink with the blood from his mouth, and wet with precum and saliva. He has to admit he’s beginning to get the appeal of this...

Joker is now thrusting his hips upward for him to take it deeper into his mouth, making desperate sounds of pleasure. Batman does, still pumping him fast and fucking his mouth.

Very soon he hears a strangled moan, feels it vibrate against his own cock. Then he feels hot, salty cum pouring into his mouth. It’s bitter and disgusting, yet somehow pleasurable at the same time, and the overload of sensation sends him over the edge too. He moans in white hot pleasure and Joker opens his mouth wide to catch as much of his load on his tongue as possible, holding on to the back of the batsuit like for dear life.

Batman swallows on him to get every last drop down his throat. Once Joker is clean, he straightens himself up and looks down at Joker who still has his cum in his mouth. A few stray drops have landed on his lips and chin but he has managed to catch most of it. He is slowly rolling it around on his tongue, enjoying the taste. Then he is spreading it back on his still hard cock. He looks up at Batman, again wearing that expression of worship. He is a beautiful mess, suckling at the cum-covered cock...

“Mmm, yes... so perfect... oh, so tasty”

Batman watches as the clown licks him clean, loving every second of it. Once he is done he grins up at him and pats on his now softening cock, then quickly shifts on the bed. He gets up on his knees, facing Batman, his hands stroking the plates of armor on his chest. He then grabs hold of his hand and pulls down.

“Come here. Kiss me.”

Batman lets him pull him onto the bed, on top of him. Joker wraps his arms around his neck and they look at each other for a moment before they kiss. The stark contrast between these gentle kisses and the violent blows exchanged earlier would be baffling to anyone else, but makes perfect sense for the two of them. This is the way things are with them, for better or for worse.

“Admit that you lied.” Joker whispers, once their lips part. Batman looks into the green eyes, uncharacteristically earnest, and strokes his hair. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Joker’s. He swallows.

“I lied.”

“You love me.”

“You know I can’t tell you that. I won’t.”

“Hm. I suppose you can’t.” Joker smiles, with a gentle stroke of his finger on his cheek. “You know, we can’t keep meeting like this. Prison cells are not the ideal setting for this kind of thing.”

Batman chuckles dryly.

“Not exactly, no...”

They lie there silently for a moment they both know will be over too soon.

“You know I can’t arrange another visit like this,” Batman finally says.

“I know, darling.” He kisses his cheek.

“I have to go.”

Batman gets up and gets himself ready to leave. “I wish you didn’t hurt yourself.” he adds, with his back turned to the bed where Joker still lies.

“I think I’ll be fine without for a while now.” He hears him say. He can hear the grin in his voice.

“Do what you need to do to avoid it.”

“Sure thing, baby.”

Without another word or another look at Joker, Batman switches on the microphone in his cowl.  
“I’m done here.” He says to the guard on the other end. Within seconds the door opens and he exits, being met with the barrel of a gun. He understands why, but hates it all the same.

The curious guard eyes the cut on his cheek and the smeared blood still on his face.  
“Did you get what you wanted?” he asks him once the door of the cell closes behind him.

Batman doesn’t look at him. Inside, he feels rotten and guilty. He should know better than to give in to this. Yet, for all the wrong reasons, at least some of the weight on his heart has shifted... When he speaks it is with cold detachment:

“I got what I needed.”

 


End file.
